A sense of duty imprisons you 1
by silverbirch
Summary: Was Dolores Umbridge evil incarnate, or an ordinary person caught up in an extraordinary situation? Would you have been any different to her?
1. Chapter 1

The door closed with the echoing clang that only a metal structure in a stone building has. Dolores Umbridge looked around the room – her cell – with an expression of total disbelief on her face. Her mind was still reeling with one of the only two questions she had asked herself these past months. How? The other question was "Why"?

Dolores Jane Umbridge, part-qualified witch, Ministry of Magic official for 35 years until her arrest, had been sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban. As she sat upon the hard cold bench that would be her bed for the rest of her life she looked at the one piece of paper which broke the monotony of the stone walls. She crossed to read it, assuming it would be the prison rules. Even now, she wanted to read rules. Instead, she found it was one of these "Thoughts to inspire", the new Ministry alternative to Dementors and just as mind numbing.

"_To protect those who are not able to protect themselves is a duty which everyone owes to society.''  
—_ _Edward Macnaghten_

She sank back on to the bench, looking at the grey prison clothes, feeling her hair which hung loose around her head. They had not even allowed her a bow. She looked again at the notice and railed against it, seeing the only word that mattered to her.

'You dare tell me about duty? I have done my duty every day of my life. Look where it has got me'

For the first time since Dolores Umbridge was sixteen years old, a real tear ran down her cheek. How? Why?

-o0o-

1946 had dawned with great expectations. The Muggle war had finally ended, though it had had little effect of the Wizarding community. True, some had chosen to fight, but those who stayed behind found their charms and shields were more than adequate protection against the rather simple bombs that had rained out of the sky. Far more importantly for them, Dumbledore had defeated Grindlewald, and a new era of peace beckoned.

In a neat little house, tucked away in a small village, a third event was even greater cause for celebration. After many years of marriage, Stanton and Copia Umbridge were safely delivered of a daughter. Originally, Stanton had hoped for sons, but as the years went by, he was satisfied with the small bundle who smiled up at him. They thought that Dolores was a pretty name, perhaps even a little exotic. They never found out it meant "Lady of Sorrows"

Stanton was a small grey man, with a neatly clipped moustache, who had worked for the Ministry of Magic since leaving school. His work was always small, grey and neatly clipped as well. He knew he would never rise far, but that was not the point at all. As he used to say_"Our duty is to be useful, not according to our desires, but according to our powers.''_ (2) He had read that somewhere and it became the rock that lead him through his life.

Copia Umbridge had never attended school, being educated at home. She was an only child, and was needed by her mother to help nurse her father, whose health was never good. She had known Stanton, as they lived in the same village. Eventually, they married. There was never a proposal, more an agreement. She needed a place to live once her parents were dead, and he needed a wife to become a respectable Ministry employee. They were neither in love nor in hate. They were always pleasant to each other, and one day was very like the rest.

Dolores lived the first 11 years of her life in the little house, playing "mummy" in the garden with her dolls and cats. They behaved as one should in a quiet ordered way and they never asked questions. She had learned early on that the answer to most questions was "because", and you never questioned your parent's decisions anyway "because" they were your parents, "because" they knew better, "because" they were older and wiser.

She had no friends. The Umbridges were not great socialisers. Small talk could not be pigeon-holed, and they had no interest in gossip. There was always plenty to do around the house, and as Stanton said

"_We cannot do everything at once, but we can do something at once."_ (3) He had read that as well.

_-o0o-_

In 1957, Dolores left home for the first time in her life, to attend Hogwarts. Her mother had wondered why she needed to. Copia had not gone to school, and the house ran itself perfectly. She could cook and clean and raise a child using the spells she had been taught by her mother. For once, probably the first time _ever_, her father made a joke.

'Now Copia, we need to make sure there is an Umbridge to follow me in to the Ministry, how ever would they manage otherwise?'

At 11 years of age, Dolores' life was mapped out. At King's Cross, her father gave her a small handwritten parchment, and told her to hang it on the wall. It was something he had read.

"_Any man's life will be filled with constant and unexpected encouragement if he makes up his mind to do his level best each day."_ (4)

Her school career was thoroughly unremarkable. She was an able student, to be sure, as long as the work did not require a great deal of _thought_. Potions, for example, went well whilst it involved following a recipe. However when the teacher asked her _why_ the ingredients needed to be added in exactly that order, she gave the answer "because" and received her first (and only) detention for cheek. Dolores was by no means stupid, so learned from this. She realised that on occasions things did need to be investigated. That was when she discovered how wonderful the library was. Here, she could find answers already provided by others. They had actually written books full of answers, so were surely better, older and wiser.

She made no friends at school. She had no interest, and could see no benefit, in the giggling and gossiping of the girls. Boys, of course, were pointless. One day she would get married, and that would necessitate finding a husband, but that was a long time in the future so it could wait.

Teachers were dealt with in the same summary fashion. Professor Binns was, not surprisingly, her favourite. He dealt with _facts, _cold hard facts that could be verified and cross referenced. She had little time for Dumbledore, for despite his "Grand Order of That" and "Chief of This" his hair and beard were far too long, and his eyes twinkled. Occasionally, the corners of his mouth would turn up. He actually smiled. Dolores had never seen the point of smiling, and it certainly did not make him look any wiser. In fact, it looked rather like the smirks on the boy's faces when they made comments she couldn't quite hear, because they were always said behind her back.

It therefore came as a surprise to Dolores, as much as anyone else, when she felt a small spark of rebellion in her bones. OWLs were upon her, and she had started a correspondence with her father about possible NEWT subjects. His reply had stunned her

_Dolores,_

_There will be no need for you to stay at school after this year. I have arranged a junior position for you here at the Ministry doing clerical work. _

_Your loving Father_

She had written in reply saying that she had always hoped to take her NEWTs, as this would improve her prospects at the Ministry, and after school wanted to travel in order to see the workings of the wizard world at first hand.

In reply, she received the only Howler she had ever had in her life.

_Dolores_

_I once read "The question for each man to settle is not what he would do if he had the means, time, influence and educational advantages, but what he will do with the things he has." _(5)

_Your Father_

She had cried, but joined the Ministry in 1962, two weeks after taking her final OWL.


	2. Chapter 2

The Ministry turned out to be not so different to school. Those who were older and wiser told her what to do, and as a junior clerk, she did it. Her father's reputation had gone before her, and she was soon considered to be a "chip off the old block". A steady worker, always neat, always correct first time. Yes, Dolores was the one when you wanted something doing properly – as long as you told her _exactly_ what you wanted. The years passed, and small promotions began to move her up the ladder. Now, she was starting to pass on advice to younger people, who always thought she was older than she was, and this advice was so central to her being it was written on a parchment she had inherited from her father and now hung on her office wall.

"_I am only one, but still, I am one. I cannot do everything but I can do something. And, because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do what I can." _(6)

At the age of 25, Dolores decided it was time she married. Having no clue as to how to go about this task, she sought the highest authority available on the subject. From the young girls she had overheard in the canteen at lunch time this, apparently, was a publication called _"Witch Weekly"_, so she wrote to them. The reply back was not unfriendly, coming from "Aunt Jane", who sounded very old and wise.

_My dear, the number of young witches who have asked me this question over the years! Yet, it is so simple! Wear stylish yet elegant clothing in feminine colours such as pink. I always favour a good twin set. Also, remember your hair. It must always look attractive. A simple adornment of a bow, say, can work wonders. The wizards will flock to you, for they are simple creatures at heart._

Dolores never did marry, but remained in pink for the remainder of her career. Even she suspected that she looked faintly ridiculous, but the 1970s were no time for a dedicated Ministry employee to concern themselves with fashion. A new threat had arisen in the wizarding world, a greater threat even than Gridleward said those who remembered. Voldemort and his "Death Eaters" were causing chaos, and the very fabric of magical society was under threat.

Umbridge, now a senior clerk, was the only person trustworthy enough to take the minutes at the crucial meeting where it was decided that Aurors would receive immunity from prosecution for using Unforgivables in the line of duty, and the Death Eaters who were captured would now be guarded by Dementors. True, there had been dissenting voices – Dumbledore for one – but the great and the good had won the vote. Dolores' heart swelled with pride at her part in history. This is how it should be. The Ministry represented truth and freedom and democracy. Of course they were right. The Ministry always was.

Then, in 1981, the threat was gone. Even Dolores could not miss the gossip flying through the corridors. Voldemort had been destroyed by a child, hardly a year old. The saviour of the world had lost his parents, but escaped with his life. For once, she almost smiled. This was obviously a cover story being put out to protect the highly trained hit wizards who had been after Voldemort for months. Only an organisation such as The Ministry could have achieved such a victory. How could anybody believe such fairy stories as love triumphing over evil?

Umbridge moved serenely in to her forties, now firmly an establishment figure. Resigned to never marrying, she could not see the point in changing anything as facile as her wardrobe, so continued to wear pink. By now, her hair was used to its bow – or perhaps an Alice band – so that stayed as well. Her life would continue on its present course, with no storms to disrupt it until she reached retirement. Then, she thought, during the long lonely evenings in her flat, she could start looking for a cottage in the country. She could have real cats again. In London, this was not feasible, so she had taken to collecting figurines and plates with them on. They were company, of a sort, and she became fond of them.

-o0o-

1990 represented a momentous year in her life. Cornelius Fudge was appointed Minister of Magic. Dolores was known to Mr. Fudge, and him to her, so she was appointed his Personal Assistant. It was the proudest day of her life, yet proved to others that he was both dangerous and stupid. Fudge was an adequate bureaucrat for the time, as the wizarding world was in a stable and prosperous position, but he was incapable of making a decision. He got in to the habit – a very bad one – of asking her opinion on every choice he made. She, of course, deferred to him as he was the Greatest of the Great, so always agreed. This simply made matters worse, because her agreement proved to him that he was right in the first place. This mutual admiration society eventually led to her being made an inquisitor at the Wizengamot.

Fudge began to confide in her that all was not well. The boy who had survived Voldemort, Harry Potter, (yes, the stories were all true) had returned and was now at Hogwarts. The previous year, there had been all that fuss with "that Sirius Black fellow" escaping from Azkaban, then disappearing from under Fudge's very nose at the school, along with a dangerous magical beast. One of the teachers, a somewhat unstable chap by the name of Snape, had intimated Potter was involved. The same Potter they had been trying to keep Black from. Fudge had thought this nonsense at the time, but was now less certain.

Just recently, Potter had returned from the last challenge of the Tri-Wizard tournament clutching a fellow competitor, who was DEAD of all things, and screaming to all and sundry that Voldemort had returned. Obvious rubbish, the poor lad was clearly suffering from some kind of shock, having seen a school chum die for whatever reason, but that old fool Dumbledore seemed to believe him. Once these kinds of rumours got out, there was no telling where it would all end. Panic in the streets, the collapse of civilisation.

Fudge slapped his hands on the desk in frustration. 'Would that I were Henry II, eh Dolores? "Will no man rid me of this turbulent priest"? Well, things to do, I shall away' (AN: Google "Thomas Becket" if I lost you there)

Dolores watched him leave. 'No man, perhaps, Minister. But I am here'. She drafted a letter to Azkaban immediately.

_From: Umbridge – Wizengamot _

_Agents report Black hiding in Little Whinging, Surrey. Using polyjuice potion to disguise himself as his godson. Dementors needed urgently. Authority given to administer kiss immediately. Destroy this on reading_


	3. Chapter 3

The Potter boy, of course, escaped the Dementors. She was surprised he had managed it, especially that he had been able to cast a patronus, but that gave her the perfect excuse to have him arrested. Now he could be safely put out of the Minister's way so he could get on with his real job. The plan would have worked as well, if it had not been for that stupid squib, Dumbledore and the fools who served with her on the Wizengamot. She could see clearly now that a committee was not necessarily the best way to proceed. Occasionally, for the greater good, it was necessary to circumvent some of the due processes. Clearly, this boy – a mere boy – encouraged by Dumbledore, was a problem. He had obviously not been brought up to respect his elders and betters.

The Minister was very upset after the trial had ended. Clearly, he had only wanted to act for the best. Didn't everybody? He kept muttering about Dumbledore.

'Did you hear him? "Ministry has no authority... Ministry does not have the power…no right to confiscate" Pompous fool. He needs watching, you know'

Dolores agreed, as she always did. 'Of course, Minister. I have often thought, even though it is not my place, of course, that Hogwarts should be – shall we say – returned to the fold. Perhaps, if you thought me suitable, I could act on your behalf?'

'Dolores, you are a true treasure. Please, we've worked together long enough, you can call me Cornelius, you know' Dolores simpered, surprising herself. 'The school needs a new DADA teacher, and as Minister I have the right to appoint one if a suitable candidate cannot be found. Can you, er, do you know anything about teaching?'

'Min... I mean, Cornelius, teaching is simply a matter of passing on answers. I'm sure I will be able to do that.'

'Indeed, I am sure you can Dolores. Keep me posted, won't you? If you can find _any_ room for improvement up there, anything to, as you so rightly say, "return the school to the fold", let me know. After all, the Ministry is responsible for setting educational standards. Yes, it might do Dumbledore good to accept some outside help. Oh, and keep an eye on that Potter boy for me, will you? I still think he's not quite right, but try to help him see though this fantasy. It will help him in the long run. Voldemort returned indeed! I'd know if he had. I'm the Minister!'

In truth, even Dolores could not argue that her mission had been a great success. Despite all the help from the Minister, it pleased her that he had accepted _every one_ of her recommendations; she had been unable to bring the school under control. Of course, that Potter boy and his gang had been against her from the start, as she had expected. Did they not realise that it was not necessary to perform a spell to know it? Of course not. But, they were young and unwise. No, what did astound her was the open contempt she met from _the teachers_, of all people. Even McGonagall, who was older than her. Even when she was made headmaster, they had no respect for their betters. Then, to cap it all, she had been tricked by a stupid girl, and _assaulted_ by a bunch of half-breeds.

Her return from St. Mungo's was obviously only just in time. The Ministry was in uproar. Voldemort had returned, and had attacked the Ministry. Cornelius was under severe pressure, and it was her duty to help him. Of course, she blamed the Auror department. _Highly_ qualified, _highly_ trained and no use to anybody. Why had they not noticed the greatest dark wizard of all had returned? Why had it taken a young boy to point out the blindingly obvious? She immediately set about drafting a document to be sent to all wizarding households suggesting simple defensive strategies, and ensured it was published in all wizarding presses. The Ministry needed to protect its own.

Despite all the failings of others, Cornelius had to carry the can. She was saddened by this, but she remembered her father saying

"_A man who wants to act virtuously in every way necessarily comes to grief among so many who are not virtuous."_ (7)

So, Dolores Umbridge made ready to serve her new Minister, which she would do with the same sense of duty as she did the last.

Rufus Scrimgeour was a very different leader to Cornelius. He was a far more determined man, and Dolores felt slighted that her advice was no longer sought as often as before. Perhaps his role a Head of the Aurors Department did not help their relationship. However, she did her duty by him as best she could. She only wished that Dumbledore would do the same. At ever turn, he seemed determined to oppose the Minister. This was a time when surely there were greater issues at stake. If only they would work together, but it seemed impossible.

Voldemort then launched an attack on Hogwarts in which Dumbledore himself had been killed. Of course, Dolores thought, if only he had worked with the Minister, then proper protection could have been given to the school. But no, Dumbledore had always been a strange one. She attended his funeral, as a senior Ministry figure it was only proper to do so. Appearances had to be maintained.

-o0o-

The sudden resignation of Scrimgeour in the summer of 1997 caught her by surprise. Normally, there were suggestions, a rise in meetings, but this time nothing. It was as if Scrimgeour had simply ceased to exist. His replacement, Pius Thicknesse, was obviously known to Dolores as he was formerly Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She had always thought of him as a rather bookish man, a typical career lawyer, and upon their first formal meeting this was confirmed. Not only was he bookish, he looked almost vacant, his eyes never quite meeting hers. However, he certainly had ideas, definitely a new broom sweeping clean. A lot of the old faces disappeared to be replaced by others. Dolores was not quite sure about some of them. The old decencies seemed to be lacking. There was less protocol around, and some of them seemed to hold her in very little regard indeed. She assumed this was the way it was with young people now. She was therefore surprised to be called to the Minister's office one day, to be told she was starting a new job. The Minister himself briefed her.

'Miss Umbridge' he said, in that rather off way of his 'research has come to light which holds very grave consequences for the wizarding community. It had now been proven that it is impossible for Muggles to have any magical ability inherent'

Dolores was taken aback. 'But Minister, I remember very clearly there were Muggle children at Hogwarts. Why, I believe some even work in the Ministry itself'

'Yes, that is true. But do you know how they came to acquire that power? They stole it, _stole it_, from pure blood wizards such as ourselves. This research has conclusively shown that squibs are pureblood wizards who have had their powers stolen from them.'

Dolores clutched her hand to her heart. 'Minister, no...surely?'

'Yes, Miss Umbridge, I can guarantee every word I have spoken is true. The Muggle is a strange and devious creature. They have no powers, yet have power over us, all of us. Even here, in the Ministry, as you say. There are Muggles out there now, corrupting our work, stealing our powers. I want you to stop them. I want you to force these Muggles out of our society. I am entrusting this task to you, not only because you come from strong wizarding stock – you are of Selwyn line I believe? – but because you have a strong sense of loyalty to the Ministry. I know you will do your duty.'

Dolores clutched at the desk for support, her head swam. This was her moment, this was the destiny she had been fated for. The Minister had come to her, the Ministry needed her and the wizarding world had come to her for survival. She would not let them down.

"_The value of life is not in the length of days, but in the use we make of them; a man may live long yet very little." _(8)

She threw herself in to her new as the head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission, legislation being enacted in record time. As the Muggles presented themselves for interrogation, she could see exactly what the Minister meant about them being "strange and devious". They crept in to the room like rats, their eyes darting furtively, their excuses becoming more and more risible. She sickened of them, these liars and thieves. They were no better than those half-breeds who had attacked her at Hogwarts. She wearied of their begging and pleading. The idea of using Dementors to quiet them came easily to her. No innocent person, no true wizard, had anything to fear from them. She felt nothing in their presence, proof she was pure and had nothing to hide.

Dolores felt empowered in a way she had never felt before. Finally she was receiving the recognition she deserved, reward for her unstinting loyalty to the Ministry. Why, even out on the streets she was being recognized. She laughed at the memory of that loathsome street vendor, no doubt plying his trade illegally. She had no time for him, her role concerned itself with much bigger matters, but he had been more than grateful to hand over that pretty little locket. It even had an "S" on it. She felt proud now of her Selwyn ancestry, even the Minister had commented.

-o0o-

In a little over a year, it had ended. Voldemort had been defeated at a second Hogwarts battle, and once again the Ministry was turned upside down. Thickness had gone. The new old faces disappeared, people were arrested, and some had died. The Muggle Registration legislation was abandoned. The research was faked; there was no proof of any magic powers being stolen. Dolores was shaken to her core.

Somebody had _lied_ to the Minister himself. Somebody had forced him to enact legislation based on falsehood, and she had carried it out. All for a lie. People had been arrested, families torn apart, souls ripped from bodies under her instruction. But, what could she do? She had carried out her orders, she had done her duty. It just showed that all these qualifications meant nothing. It was only people like her, acting diligently, who could be trusted.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was appointed a temporary replacement for Thicknesse, and soon confirmed as his permanent replacement. She had seen Ministers come and go, and this was no different. That was what happened in politics. Only people like her, the true servants of the Ministry carried on.

She entered the Minister's room exactly on time. He had called her here, she assumed to discuss her new position. She wondered why there were two Aurors in the room with him, and hoped they would leave before personnel matters were discussed.

'Minister, I am Dolores Umbridge. I would like to welcome you to your new post, and hope that we will work well together in the future'. She held out her hand. Kingsley did not take it.

'Dolores Jane Umbridge, allegations of corruption, theft, improper treatment and abuse of position have been made against you. These allegations will be investigated, and if substantiated, you will be tried before the Wizangemot. You will have the right to defend your self, or appoint others to defend you, and call witnesses. In the interim, you are suspended from office with immediate effect. You will hand in your wand and Ministry pass. You will remain at your place of residence. You will not attempt to leave the country. These Aurors will escort you from the premises. You will be allowed to take personal possessions with you. Do you have anything to say?'

She slumped in to a chair, her brain unable to comprehend. She _must_ hold on to something concrete.

'Minister, I did my duty'

"I will not surrender responsibility for my life and my actions."  
-- John Enoch Powell

Quotations

1 _Jenny Holzer, American conceptual artist (b. 1950) _

2 _Henri F. Amiel, Swiss writer (1821-1881)_

3 _Calvin Coolidge, 30th U.S. president (1872-1933)_

4 _Booker T. Washington, American educator (1856-1915)_

5 _Hamilton Wright Mabee, American essayist (1846-1916)_

_6 Edward Everett Hale, American clergyman and writer (1822-1909)_

7 _Niccolo Machiavelli, Florentine dramatist, political analyst and adviser (1469-1527)_

8 _Michel de Montaigne, French essayist (1533-1592)_


End file.
